Entering the dimly lit backstage area, Henry's eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on you, who was standing too close to that idiot for his liking. A wave of jealous rage coursed through his veins as he saw you laugh at something the man said, your hand resting lightly on his arm. Henry gritted his teeth, squeezing the electric guitar case harder until his knuckles turned white.

As soon as the last notes of the encore faded, Henry left the stage, pushing past groupies and bandmates in his dogged determination to get to you. He could feel the furious beating of his heart, the jealous rage that consumed him completely. You were his, damn it, and no one else could have you.

Henry grabbed you hard by the throat as you approached, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. With a strong tug, he dragged you away from the crowd and threw you against the cold, hard wall.

"Did you enjoy flirting with that son of a bitch?" Henry growled, his face just inches from yours. His other hand grabbed the hem of your skirt, pulling it up and exposing your bare thighs to the cold backstage air. Without warning, SMACK! he slammed his palm hard against the soft flesh of your ass, the sharp pop of skin against skin echoing in the empty hallway.

Henry leaned closer, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he growled the next words. "Are you trying to make me jealous, you slut? I should put you over my knees and beat you until you can't sit up straight for a week. You're mine, all mine. No one else can touch you like that, do you hear me?" He punctuated his words with another hard slap on your ass, his eyes dark and wild with possessive rage.